


Apple Pie

by sinceimetyou



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Partial Nudity, Pie, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinceimetyou/pseuds/sinceimetyou
Summary: Lazy morning with fugitive Steve and for his birthday, you choose to gift him a comforting memory from his past.





	Apple Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry to @redgillan Steve Rogers’ 100th Birthday Challenge on Tumblr. I got the prompt ‘Enthusiasm’ with Steve Rogers.
> 
> It actually contains my trustworthy apple pie recipe!
> 
> It took me a while to find a proper song until the damn recipe gave me a clue. So, here’s my boy Neil Diamond & Crazy Horse - Cinnamon Girl.
> 
> **MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION**

There is this mad love that I feel, rushing from my heart to every part of my body the very microsecond I inhale his scent near to me or my pillow, every morning. That exact moment, is the same that tells me that my body has to wake up and start the day. My systems are so accustomed to that without thinking, deploying my hands over the bed in search of his skin, even before I can open my eyes, like an instinct. And the pads of every finger always find him.

I can’t help it. It just happens. This well-oiled machinery works amazingly. Might take him some seconds or minutes to recognize my touch from time to time but he gives me this lovely sigh and a hum, to make me notice that he is aware. In this occasion I have reached his back, a bit below his ribs.

“Good morning…” his voice is husky and still sleepy, yet resounding below a pillow.

My hands keep roaming over his naked torso, making their way through anything until they get to the front of his waist and the fingers lace to each other. We are tired from our last night special time that involved lots of hearty laughs, some playful kissing and our bodies melting, like we’ve been doing for the last year and a half since he started to running and hiding from the government. And I can hear another lazy sigh, bigger than the first but pleased.

“Good morning love…” I’m still unable to open my eyes but I’m on it and there are some itty bitty rays of sunshine gleaming through my lashes. And I reply while curling and stretching my legs and toes discreetly “What are we going to do today birthday boy?”

“Haha…” He gives me a muffled chuckle and I tilt my head, wondering.

“What’s that laugh, sleepy head?”

“You called me boy. I wish I could feel that way right now” I can feel his big and rough hand over one of mine and detangles it from the other only to keep it for him, kneading the back of it mostly with his thumb.

He starts to sound melancholic like many other days and my first reaction is to wake up completely, without exactly knowing how, to boost his energy to the roof. I’ve tried to keep his mind occupied, having him fully concentrated to save people or to letting himself relax… it’s never in a negative way. I’ve seen him mourning and crying for his past and in no way I’m giving him the chance to feel that in my presence.

Natasha often scolds me for that but she also acknowledges that he is more focused in his duty and still gentle and forgiving with people. I’m pretty sure one day I’ll pay for doing that but for this day, I’ll indulge him with treats.

“Remember when you told me about something you miss to eat?”

“No, I don’t”

“Yes… we were in France, when we were on that boat to Morocco and you mentioned it… you said…” I’m seriously trying for him to remember and my voice weirdly sounds high pitched and annoying.

“I’m sorry, we were running away, I can’t remember Y/N…” He makes this long pause and kinda realizes that he is mining my enthusiasm “But what did I say?”

“Nevermind…”

As soon as I say that, he pulls his head from below the pillow and puts it under his cheek and grabs tighter my hand, he is turning his whole body over his stomach and pulling me with him, making me land completely over his broad back. I yelp a bit because my hand gets stuck below while I’m putting some leverage with the other to not to fall to the other side of him, where there’s nothing, just the floor. Still, wherever my hands land on him, I hold firmer. It’s such a surprise for me that I start laughing loud and he only releases another lazy sigh. I can see now a side of his perfect face, the fuzzy beard and those beautiful long thick eyelashes.

“You might not want to acknowledge it but you behave like a boy, Rogers”

He still refuses to open completely his eyes; yet, he is giving me a very sweet smirk that I can’t help but to turn myself liquid for it. I kiss tenderly his shoulder blade and then adjust my cheek, to rest over his warm muscular back; we also have a significative distance thanks to my breasts. He keeps grabbing my hand, embracing my forearm, playing with his thick fingers with mine. I can feel his heartbeat, peaking everytime he deeply inhales. I like to think that it’s because of me, that I make him feel giddy and so enamored.

“Well… I have a surprise for you” My excitement is back and I can’t stop giving him miniscule playful kisses. “Do you want to help me in the kitchen or do you want to keep sleeping?”

He doesn’t exactly reply but peeks me amused with one eye.

“I know we are limited with some things but before all of this, there’s some stuff I can do… and that little conversation we had, please… work on it” There’s another big kiss over his bare skin and a wink to him in a flirtier way, that I can notice how his ears and cheeks turn red. I pull out my trapped arm and find some courage to get up from there.

He sees me struggling to let my legs free from the bed sheet and laughs of me.

“Don’t leave me Y/N please…”

I don’t take that personally and don’t fall that easily for that sweet plead but I don’t even bother to look back because I’m looking for one of his shirts to put on, my chest gets cold. Steve doesn’t get up after saying that, he only squirms his whole body and rubs the face over the pillow, going back to sleeping.

“An hour!” I say before opening the door of the room and walk to the living/kitchen area.

\---

Steve got us a very small apartment in Elephantine Island, Egypt. It was a steal to be honest… we got the basic furnitures and services we could ever need and it has a balcony with a breathtaking view to the Nile River, everything for a very low price. Natasha and Sam got a similar one but downstairs. While he and the team went out to gather intel of a hidden HYDRA cell in Aswad, I went to one of the local markets and bought enough food for all of us.

Little by little in the last days, I got all the ingredients for a birthday treat for him.

It was weeks ago. The night when we left France in a small raft, we were playing a little cruel game. We were hungry like we’ve never been before because we lost a bag with our provisions and still, got the silly idea to talk about our favorite comforting food. Nat mentioned how much she enjoyed dark chocolate when she left the Red Room; Sam said something about Jamaican jerked chicken and rum cake proudly prepared by him at home. We were licking our whiskers by then when Steve went beyond.

He told us this heartfelt story with a wide beautiful smile about how his mother always prepared him a little pie or cake, just for him, to comfort him all the times he fell sick or got into serious trouble. She used only a couple of small copper pots and made all her best to see a smile on little Stevie. From all those she did, the apple pie stood out from the rest. With knowing looks, we all felt kind of sad for him but went along with the smiles. Halfway through the trip, I remembered that I had a couple of chocolate energy bars in the bottom of my bag, took them out and shared with them. We did a little toast with relieved smiles and made them last until we reached mainland and get proper food.

In the back of my mind, I had these two old recipes from my grandmother but never got the real chance to prepare one until this day; one of those is very close to what Mrs. Rogers used to prepare for his son and I’m decided to make him feel comfortable for his 100th birthday. Luckily our kitchen has an old oven that still works.

I sit at our table to peel and thinly slice two red apples with my small sharp combat knife, placing them in a bowl and throw on them little packets and pinches of powdered spices like nutmeg, clove, star anise and black pepper. While opening the cinnamon powder one, I have to use my teeth to tear it but it rips more than expected and a dusty cloud of it falls over my face and shirt. I hold my breath enough to not to sneeze over the preparation and move discreetly to the window to shake it away.

I go back to my apple mix and pour the remaining cinnamon of the packet in the bowl, which is enough for the recipe, along with less than a cup of brown sugar and bits of butter, giving it a soft stir with a spoon. In another bowl I throw a cup of flour, the remaining of my butter bar which is now softened by the room temperature, dash of salt, lemon zest, a tablespoon of sugar and an egg yolk. My hands mix it until I get a soft dough, ready to be spread over an aluminum foil pie mold.

My treat is cutely assembled and in the oven in less time that I expected.

The moment I turn my sight to the bedroom, I notice that Steve is not there sleeping and then I hear the sound of the water falling in the shower. While he is in there, I try to clean and wash the dishes and utensils I used and turn on a small radio that is over the frigde.

Around thirty minutes later, I put out of the oven the pie to let it cool over the grid of the stove. It looks lovely… golden brown and crusty; I had the silly idea to weave some of the dough over it, crimping the edges, giving it a classic and homely appearance. The smell of it fills the entire apartment and excites me the most because I feel like I accomplished something really great, so I let myself go and start dancing at the rhythm of the music, shaking my head and my hips.

“You look so adorable cinnamon girl…”

Me and my heart jumps hard of the sudden apparition of Steve by the table; he has showered and dressed in his dark uniform pants and a grey t-shirt that I love, but for some weird reason I can’t stop dancing. He laughs and gives me the most precious smile I’ve ever seen on him as I approach to hold his hand and pull to dance with me, at least a for a twirl. He follows and tries me to do a back drop. I get too nervous for being too close to the ground that I start laughing louder but he puts me back, carrying me with his rock-like arms and sliding me through his body until I reach the floor on my feet. I stare at his baby blue eyes the whole moment and I can’t help but to gasp. I can hint an orangey smell of the shampoo all over him.

He grabs my face gently, plant a warm kiss and let me go again, licking his lips for my spicy powder taste and walks straight to the oven to see his birthday treat.

“What have you done Y/N? Is this for me?” Enjoying the smell.

I nod with a shy smile. His eyes wander for a knife, forks and plates at the pantry until he finds and takes them. Makes a cut.

“Is not enough cool… don’t burn your tongue!” I worry.

He serves a slice that he politely hands to me and another for him. He gives me a sly smile, purts up his lips to fadingly blow some air to cool his serving and finally takes a little bite of the pie.

“Mmm…” He shuts the eyes and hums delighted, waving the fork in the air. “Are you kidding me? This is the best pie I ever had in years! DECADES!” Cuts another bigger bite and relishes again when it’s on his mouth, trying to speak at the same time with filled cheeks. “So good!”

I taste it too and feel proud of my achievement but I realize that I might never know if it’s like his mother’s but I’m still happy with the result. The moment is not complete for me to enjoy my bite when I see Steve, chewing and swallowing fast, placing the plate over the stove grid and taking me tightly from my waist, to put me over the table.

My heart races excited and I’m completely sure, his too. The dashing smile never leaves him, the eyes and nose crinkle beautifully; the face gets dangerously close to mine and the beard wants to tickle a bit my cheeks.

“I love you dear…” He whispers and gives me a quick peck on my lips, he looks absorbed by it. That’s his way of thanking me and I’m beyond thrilled.

“Happy birthday Steve. You know? This might need a nice scoop of vanilla ice cream on top…” My arms and legs wrap him and there’s this familiar look between us. I make him get close for another kiss but I make sure to cling softly by sucking his lower lip. “Make it à la mode…”


End file.
